Here For You
by Gomes
Summary: [HouseCuddy & HouseCuddyWilson friendship] “Yeah, we’re here for you...invited or not.” SexKills ep addition. OneShot.


Title: Here For You  
Author: Gomey  
Archive: Anywhere, just let me know so I can brag...hehe.  
Rating: R  
Spoilers: 2x14 Sex Kills  
Pairings: House/Cuddy & House/Cuddy/Wilson friendship  
Disclaimer: All known characters and premises belong to their respective owners. So there.  
Summary: "Yeah, we're here for you...invited or not."  
Notes: Episode addition to _Sex Kills_. OneShot.

* * *

Greg watched as James headed for the bathroom, his eyes then falling on his best-friend's suitcase. He cocked his head to the side in thought, unsure what to make of their current situation: sure his style would be cramped for the next few weeks, but they still had a lot of fun together. His eyes wandered to the ceiling, still thinking, knowing that he owed his friend during the long months - years even, after Stacy had left him. 

His eyes snapped to the door as another knock sounded. Pushing himself out of his recliner, he grabbed his cane and limped over to the door, checking the peephole before opening it. "Surprise." He muttered monotonously, staring down at her.

"Just came to see how you were doing. That was a pretty nasty assault there."

"You should leave that up to Cameron - she's more of the Mother Hen type," he retorted, taking another step closer.

Lisa smiled, hand holding a basket of items behind her back. The other trailed up his open button-down shirt, toying with the first button. "Dr. Cameron might show concern, but I have the healing touch." She smiled, watching his expression change as her hand slid down his chest, abdomen and stopping over his crotch. She gently massaged him, all the while still staring him in the eyes.

He hissed a groan, throwing a worried glance over his shoulder before looking back at her. "Lisa..." Eyes closed, he tilted his head back, absorbing the pleasure as she continued with her ministrations. "Now's not a good time," he said, grabbing hold of her wrist.

She glanced down at his hand then back up at him. "Oh, did you want me to stop?" Her eyes caressed the bulge that was forming. "I thought I was doing a pretty good job...I mean, people lie but Mr. Winky here," she gave him a squeeze to reiterate her point, "doesn't."

He still hadn't removed her hand from his growing arousal and he held her gaze intensely. His hand unconsciously moved, recreating the rhythm she had adopted earlier. He breathed a moan, leaning down, attacking her lips. Desire began to build, crossing the border from teasing to want as his hips began to move against her hand.

James stepped out of the bathroom, passing a hand through his hair as he sighed aloud. He stopped, taking in Greg's back and knowing there was another person in front of him. Though obscured by the Diagnostician's form, he could still make out a feminine figure, notably the toned legs that were heightened by a pair of sexy pumps. "God House, did you hire a hooker for me?" He asked, hands on hips. "...and even at that, you're hogging her."

Greg chuckled against her lips, body shaking with muted laughter. He leaned back, taking in her shocked and insulted form. "Yeah, a little expensive but well worth it. She loves down and dirty role-playing - even owns her own pair of handcuffs."

Lisa slapped him hard on the shoulder before side-stepping, presenting herself to the Oncologist.

His hands fell limp at his side, mouth hanging open. "Dr. Cuddy." He coughed out a nervous laughter, averting his eyes.

"James." She nodded, discreetly placing the basket outside of Greg's apartment and pushing it out of view with her foot. She closed the door behind her and took off her coat, still in her business attire.

James nodded, acknowledging the lack of formality in his voice. "Sorry about that...I just saw a pair of sexy legs..." He sighed, blushing and looking away.

Her lips twisted into a smile as she removed her pumps, toes flexing to relieve the day's stress.

"Don't be so hard on Jimmy, he's in quite a pickle of a situation that'll be leaving _him_ hard for weeks. He's been diagnosed with acute horny'titis."

Both Lisa and James threw Greg a warning before the Dean approached the Oncologist. "Everything okay?"

"Trouble at home. And no, it wasn't me this time." He muttered, plopping himself down in Greg's recliner. He grabbed a beer off the coffee table, popping the cap off and taking a long swig.

Lisa's expression softened as she walked by, giving his forearm a squeeze. "Hey, we're here for you."

Greg limped out, carrying another beer. He handed it to Lisa and took a seat on the couch, motioning her to join him. "Yeah, we're here for you...invited or not." He shot Lisa a mock glare.

She took the opened beer from him, bringing it to her lips and taking a generous mouthful. She sat down on the couch, leaning against the cranky Diagnostician, smiling when he put his arm around her shoulders.

"I don't blame her really..." James began, taking a smaller sip. "I mean, I was never home, didn't pay much attention to her," he glanced at Greg, "bribed her with cheap chocolates. Maybe I deserved it."

"Not to mention that you cheated on her too," Greg added, without tact. He looked up innocently, feeling the room's sudden tension. "What?"

Lisa rolled her eyes, before breaking out into a small smile. "Once...awhile back, even before I became Dean here, I was seeing this guy." A small giggle erupted. "So we were getting pretty serious, and it was _my_ first serious relationship. Anyway," she took a sip of beer, "I gave him my key. He knew I was working a lot so he would offer to have dinner ready for me when I got home - so I gave him my key, right? Well, one night, I came home slightly earlier than expected." She finished off her beer, reaching over for the bottle that Greg was nursing. "So, there's this huge van in my driveway. I peek inside and it's filled with electronics and..." she waved her hands in the air, trying to find the proper word, "and stuff! I walk inside and I hear the distinct sounds of sex." Her eyes dropped, her face slightly sad. "He was not only robbing me, but he was having sex...in my bed...with his accomplice _George_."

There was a slight pause as all three friends digested the information. Greg broke the silence by chuckling, which infected James and soon Lisa joined in, laughing at her own misery. Greg's hold tightened around her, as he let out a contented sigh. "Wow, if that doesn't make you feel better, Jimmy..."

James scrunched up his face, giving Lisa a sympathetic look. He glanced over at Greg, nodding towards him. "What about you?"

Lisa nudged him, handing him back his half-empty beer. "Yeah, make James feel better too."

Greg sighed, eyes scanning the coffee table as if the answer was embedded in the scratched surface. "Okay, this was awhile back -"

"- pre-Stacy or post-Stacy?" Lisa interrupted, shifting so that she was leaning against the arm of the sofa, with her legs resting in his lap.

"Would you let me tell the story?" He snapped playfully, his hand gently caressing her legs. "So awhile back, I met this girl...this woman at some stupid medical function."

"Post-Stacy." Lisa stated, nodding towards James.

Greg rolled his eyes before continuing. "She was hot, very hot. Little black dress, _fuck-me_ pumps, the whole deal. So of course, being the babe-magnet that I am, she comes and starts talking to me. We chatted for awhile and, oddly enough, I found myself enjoying her company. I mean, right from the start you could tell that she was a meddling, busy-body, control freak...but I actually enjoyed my time with her." He paused, a mock-sadness falling upon his face.

"So what's the depressing point of this story?" James asked, finishing off his beer.

"She never did ask me to dance." Greg responded, a certain melodramatic air to his response.

"You are in pain when you _walk_ and you had been bitching about your leg non-stop through-out the whole function. How the hell was I supposed to know you wanted to boogie it down on the dance floor with me?" Lisa growled, swatting his head.

"I was going for the sympathy-look," he stated plainly before facing James, "the chicks totally dig it. The bruised and battered, tortured soul? Easy lay."

Lisa rolled her eyes, folding her arms across her chest. "It's true," she muttered, averting her eyes.

"Oh..." James exaggerated the word, "so _that's_ when it all started."

"You already knew?" Greg asked, slightly surprised. He had been hoping to shock his best-friend by playing his and Lisa's relationship on a completely blasé level but had been disappointed when no reaction had ensued.

"Of course he had to know...he hasn't reacted to us - "

" - except for calling you a 'ho." Greg interrupted, giving her a cheeky grin. He turned back to James, offering a shrug. "I thought you were just being annoyingly polite."

James let out a small laugh. "You guys were fighting more, but there's been a change in the air. There's more of an ease..."

"Practice makes perfect." Lisa muttered.

"And you," he pointed to the Diagnostician, "haven't been avoiding Clinic like normal and I think the only phenomena that could explain that, would be the promise of more sex."

Greg nodded slowly, processing all of the information. "Good deductions, _Watson_."

"And I kind of saw you two making out in your office after hours." He added quickly, sitting back with a smug look.

Greg chuckled, slouching further into the couch as he finished off the last of his beer. He placed it on the floor, and stretched his legs out, placing them on the coffee table. He smiled discreetly, as Lisa curled up beside him, placing her head in his lap. He gently stroked her hair, looking down at her with hidden affection.

James got up and grabbed three more beers from the refrigerator. He placed one on the table and handed the other one to Greg before plopping himself back down. "Your story didn't make me feel better."

"Please, Lisa's story was scarring enough to make John Bobbit feel better." He remarked, taking a large sip.

"So, you happy?"

Greg's eyes snapped to his best-friend, regarding him for a moment. He looked back down at Lisa, hand still lost in a tangle of curls. "Yeah." He cleared his throat, uncomfortable with the level of intimacy shared. "Meanwhile, I hope you realized that you just destroyed my chance at getting laid tonight."

"I thought your _boys_ got wounded in the war." James replied casually, unmoved by his friend's grouses.

"Wounded but not out of commission." He took another sip, holding the bottle by the neck, trapped between his index and thumb. "She's asleep."

"Recurrence every time you get laid?" James jibed amicably.

Greg pointed at his friend, "oh you! See, I should really stop buying Labatt Dry. Two beers, and you're a regular _Oscar Wilde_!" He nodded towards James, "let's get her to bed."

James stood up and walked over to the couch. Squatting slightly, he dug his hands under Lisa, and scooped her up, holding her close to his chest. "Relatively light," he grunted, walking towards Greg's room.

He pulled back the covers, watching as his friend deposited her gently on the bed. "I would have just tossed her," he remarked casually, covering her up with the blanket.

"Yeah, and she would have just beat you with your cane tomorrow," James replied, giving his friend a pat on the back. "House...I," he sighed, "thanks."

"I'm not a doctor, I'm just a miracle worker," he stated with confidence.

James rolled his eyes, and headed out towards the sitting room. "Goodnight."

"Yeah." He replied, limping over to the other side of the bed. He sat down and slowly shifted, until he was lying right beside her. Propping himself up on his elbow, he watched her sleep, a pensive look on his face.

* * *

James kicked at the blanket, tossing on his side with a sigh. A knock on the door startled him and he glanced at his watch. "Ten thirty and already in bed. Man, I'm getting old," he commented to himself. He staggered to the door, kicking over Greg's beer bottle in the process, watching it as it rolled underneath the coffee table. He opened the door, coming face to face with the apartment complex's janitor. "Um...yes?"

"You basket, ja?"

James squinted, trying to discern the words through the thick Slovenian accent that was slightly louder than needed. "What?"

"Present on floor. You take?" The tall lanky man thrust the basket into his hands and continued on his way, following the lead of the dirty push-broom that seemed to spread more dust than pick up.

James took a step back into the apartment and closed the door, locking it while his eyes perused the contents: random bottles, bubble bath, and a warm bottle of Champagne. Brow furrowed, he plucked a bottle of erotic massaging oil and stared at it wide-eyed. "House?" He called out, not waiting, "I think your janitor just made a pass at me."

–finis–


End file.
